Purple Hearts
by Katseester
Summary: In which Yosuke receives bad poetry on smelly paper. It praises his butt.


Almost 5 years later and I still love these two idiots, just slay me already and get it over with.

* * *

Yosuke is losing his mind.

It's not because of their frequent and oftentimes painful sojourns into the TV world. No, that he can deal with. Brush it off, grit his teeth and grin through the throbbing pain in his shoulder. It's no big deal.

It's not because Teddie has been driving him up the wall with his constant pestering and questions of "Yos_uke_, what's this?" to every. Single. New. Thing. He. Sees.

It happens _a lot_.

That, while slightly more aggravating than a head banged on the ground or an ankle twisted the wrong way in the TV, is not what is causing Yosuke to slowly, but surely, lose grip on the last threads of his sanity.

Both of these, while most definitely _catalysts_ towards what will soon be the shredded remains of his already-feeble mind, are not the true cause of his great distress.

He spies the letter when he arrives at school one day, just a triangle of paper sticking out of his shoe locker. At first he thinks it's an accident; who would leave a note for _him_? Then he gets suspicious; it's probably another "go die Junes" letter, maybe some gum or thumbtacks left in his shoes too.

He pulls it out cautiously, fully expecting it to burst into flames or emit an embarrassing noise, but the paper stays mercifully quiet and intact. The paper is heavy, high-quality stuff, and he thinks he can smell a bit of lavender wafting up from it. It's folded over twice, with a sparkling heart sticker sealing it shut.

Not daring to believe that someone has honestly left him a _love note_, Yosuke glances over his shoulders quickly before peeling the sticker loose and unfolding the paper quickly, intending to read it before anyone can happen upon him.

_Thine hair is sunburnt as autumn leaves,_  
_Eyes deep and cool as summer rain,_  
_Nose a welcome interruption upon a winter plain,_  
_Hark, for thine lips soon will be mine._

_Your shoulders, taught and slim,_  
_The curving S of your back,_  
_Your butt,_  
_I would very much like to touch it,_  
_And maybe you would touch mine too?_

Yosuke almost starts choking on air.

Hastily shoving the paper into his bag and pretending he_ didn't_ just read a poem praising his ass, he makes it to class just as the last bell stops ringing.

* * *

Yosuke spends most of the morning in a slight panic. Someone in the school wants to touch his ass. Someone in the school wants to _touch his ass_. Someone, somewhere in this school wants to lay their hand upon his butt and maybe feel around a little.

No, it's cool. He can deal with it.

It could be an underclassman, starry-eyed and wistfully staring out the window as she twirls a lock of hair around her index finger.

It could be someone in his class. Yukiko is out of the question; her poetry wouldn't be so crappy. Maybe Chie, though. No, scratch that, Chie would never use such flowery language.

It could be Hanako.

Oh god, it could be _Hanako_. "Hey there, Hanamura," she'd say while bearing down upon him, effectively squeezing all breath and maybe a bit of life out of him, "mind if I touch your butt?"

Yosuke suppresses a shudder.

Another letter is waiting for him at the lunch bell, the same heavy paper that smells just a bit like lavender and is carefully folded with a purple heart sticker holding it shut.

_You look cute today._

Yosuke almost lets out an embarrassed squeak. His face definitely turns red and he shoves the paper into his pocket before making a beeline to the boys' washroom.

Souji is washing his hands as Yosuke makes his flustered entrance, raising an eyebrow at his obvious disarray.

"Something up?" he queries as he's drying his hands.

"No. Nothing. Nothing is up!" Yosuke's voice squeaks unsteadily up a few octaves. "I mean. Yeah. Fine. Everything's fine."

Souji raises an eyebrow at him again.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Yosuke announces, stumbling over to a stall and locking himself in. He can hear Souji's low chuckle reverberate around the room before his footsteps disappear out the door.

Yosuke groans into his hands.

* * *

Another note is waiting for him at the end of the day.

_Your butt looks cute today too._

Yosuke feels like screaming. He shoves his fist into his mouth before he can, ignoring the weird looks and just focusing on tying his shoes one-handed.

"What's up?" Souji asks from behind him, and at this point Yosuke realizes he's shoved the letter into his mouth with his fist. He scrambles to right himself—shoes still mostly untied—and thrusts the paper into his bag before Souji can catch a glimpse of it and make fun of him for the rest of his life.

"Oh, you know, just going home!" Yosuke tries for cheer, but gets extremely panicked instead.

Souji doesn't raise an eyebrow, to Yosuke's tremendous relief. "Okay," he says instead, smiling very slightly and nodding towards the door. "Let's go."

* * *

The love notes continue to appear in Yosuke's shoe box throughout the week, always on the same heavy, scented paper and with a different colour of heart sticker each time.

Some of them are almost cute, Yosuke thinks lazily in class, doing his hardest not to pay attention to the lecture. Cute in a sort of creepy way, if he's being honest with himself.

He can't help but feel a bit flattered, though. Someone's paying attention to him. Someone cares enough to notice the little things, like his hair and...and his face.

(Yosuke doesn't like thinking about what else his secret admirer notices.)

Thankfully, she seemed to realize how shitty she was at writing poetry and hasn't tried any more since that first note.

_I like what you've done with your hair_, one at lunch break says. _Are those new shoes?_ another asks.

Yosuke is maybe a little bit pleased at this.

_I can't stop thinking about you_, reads the latest one, pasted closed with a green, sparkly heart.

It hits Yosuke that this person is completely serious. And he still has no idea who it is.

All of the pleased, jittery feelings flee his stomach and are replaced with a jolt of panic.

Souji finds him flat on his stomach on the roof during a lunch period and only bothers to prod him once before taking a seat beside his head.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and Yosuke almost wails into his arms, but instead he turns over and stares at the sky.

"If I told you you'd only laugh at me," he says, keeping his eyes fixed on the swirling clouds above him.

"Try me," Souji counters, and there's something about his voice, soft and warm and promising, that has Yosuke spilling his guts in a matter of seconds.

"I don't even know who she is," he complains at last, "and I feel like a jerk!"

Souji, who'd remained silent all through his tirade, cocks his head. "How?"

"I don't know, dude," Yosuke groans, covering his face with his arm. "It's like, here I am getting all these love notes and_ enjoying_ them, while _she's_ probably crying into her pillow every night because she can't bring herself to tell me to my face!" He lets his arm flop off to the side and cranes his neck to look at Souji. "You know what I mean?"

Souji is frowning, eyebrows knit close together over his downcast eyes. "I guess," he says after a while.

"Man, I wish I knew who it was," Yosuke says, drawing idle circles on the metal near his waist.

"Do you?" Souji asks quietly, so quietly Yosuke can barely hear him.

"Well, whoever she is, she's shit at poetry," Yosuke muses, thinking back to the line about_ touching his butt._

Souji snorts not at all delicately.

* * *

The letters stop for about a week after that. His secret admirer seemed to have taken a break to ponder her next compliment, or maybe sob morosely into her best friend's shoulder. Maybe she'd given up.

Yosuke's day-dreaming in class again, thinking that maybe it's for the best, he shouldn't get too attached to the lavender sparkly-heart notes anyways, when Kashiwagi purrs that they're to write a 500 word essay on the "advantages of a good libido" (Yosuke takes a moment to wonder _what the hell_), to be handed in at the end of class, and Yosuke's pretty sure he left his notebook at home.

Damn, he totally did.

"Hey, partner," he whisper-shouts at the back of Souji's head, trying his hardest to avoid Kashiwagi's notice and ducking down when her gaze sweeps the class for any disruptions.

Souji turns his head, just slightly, and Yosuke knows he's listening.

"Do you think you could lend me some paper?" he asks a bit desperately, aware that Kashiwagi is slowly advancing down the rows of desks. "I forgot my notebook at home, I'd totally be in your debt forever, _please before Kashiwagi gets here_ – "

"Is there something wrong, Hanamura-kun?" Kashiwagi asks, entirely too close to Yosuke's desk.

"N-no," Yosuke stutters, trying to look anywhere but at her and spotting, with immense relief, a notebook that had seemingly appeared on his desk not a moment earlier. "Just, you know, getting in touch with my, uh, inner libido, haha..."

Kashiwagi raises an eyebrow at him and smirks sinisterly, but offers no comment. Yosuke almost deflates in relief when she turns away and continues her sweep of the room.

"_Thank you,_" he croaks at Souji, before flipping it open and almost screaming.

Inside the notebook, on the very first page, is a sheet of stickers.

Pink, purple, green, red, some missing here or there; little hearts sparkling innocently up at him.

Yosuke almost falls out of his chair.

* * *

"Yosuke," his mother calls through the door, rapping on it a few times just in case he didn't hear. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry," Yosuke mumbles into his sheets. "I'm never going to eat again and I'm going to die of starvation because I'll never feel hungry again in my life."

"That's nice dear, now come down before it gets cold," his mom says, and then leaves.

"I'm going to go to school tomorrow and Souji will know I know and it will be the end of the world because he'll kill me," Yosuke says to himself. "He'll kill me so no one will ever find out he sent me lavender scented paper with stupid sparkly hearts that complimented my butt."

"Yosuke!" his mom yells up the stairs. "Dinner!"

"I'd rather die right now," Yosuke continues, "then I won't die by the hands of my best friend to keep his secret safe."

Stomping feet up the stairs, then suddenly his mother is standing in his open doorway, hands on hips and decidedly exasperated. "Dinner," she implores, casting a critical eye at the pathetic lump of her son.

"I can't," Yosuke bemoans, flopping over onto his stomach. "I'd rather die on an empty stomach. It's less embarrassing."

His mother sighs. "If you won't come down then I'll just give yours to Teddie. I'm sure _he'll_ enjoy it."

Yosuke shoots her a wounded look. "You wouldn't."

"I would and I will, now come on or the vegetables will be spoiled."

Yosuke sighs and rolls off his bed. His mother is _evil_.

* * *

Yosuke does not die the next day, or the next, or the next after that. In fact, Souji shows no signs of knowing that _he_ knows at all. He's the same as ever. Still, Yosuke watches him carefully, like a bomb about to explode. He doesn't bring it up because he's a boy and the less talk about feelings the better.

Then, five days after Yosuke miserably failed his in-class essay on "the advantages of a healthy libido" (handed back with several "suggestions" supplied by Kashiwagi), another letter appears in his locker.

_Come meet me upstairs._

Yosuke stares at the letter for a good thirty seconds. Does he want to go? Does he dare go?

"He'll throw me off the roof," he mumbles to himself. "And then he'll say it was an accident."

Still, he has nervous butterflies in his stomach that have nothing at all to do with his potential impending death, and they only get worse as he climbs the stairs to the roof.

Too soon the door to outside is staring back at him. He takes a deep breath. Rocks back on his heels a bit. Realizes he's at the top of a flight of stairs and hastily rocks back.

Finally, feeling like maybe falling down the stairs and cracking his head would have been easier than this, he opens the door and blinks at the cloudy sky.

Souji is waiting at their usual lunch spot, staring pensively at the surrounding landscape (a bunch of hills). He spots Yosuke and waves him over.

"So uh," Yosuke starts, and his voice cracks. He coughs and starts again. "So you, uh, you wanted to meet me here?"

"Yeah," Souji says, not quite able to keep the waver out of his voice. "I knew you probably had it figured out by now, so..." he shrugs and pats a spot beside him.

"You're really shitty at poetry," Yosuke says, taking the offered seat. "You know, I thought you of all people would be better." Souji actually laughs at this.

"I tried," he points out. Yosuke has to give him that. "And it sucked so I stopped."

"My _butt_," Yosuke says, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "You were praising my _butt_."

"Well, I like it," Souji says simply, and Yosuke just stares at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Yosuke says, trying to school his expression into something more normal. "But I thought you were a girl. You know, with the smelly paper and the hearts."

"That was kind of the point," Souji admits sheepishly. "And I thought you'd like lavender."

Yosuke did, actually, but he'd prefer to keep that to himself.

"Well, I kept them," he says instead, and feels the heat rise to his face. "The letters, I mean. Even after I realized it wasn't some first year girl or Hanako."

Souji raises an eyebrow at him for that, but he looks pleased.

"So you...?" He leaves the question hanging in the air, open for Yosuke to finish it however he wants.

"Well I—" Yosuke has no idea how to say this without sounding lame. "I like you?" he says, then, "I like you," far more firmly. "A lot," he adds, just in case it sounded too ambiguous. "Er." He grins shyly at Souji. "I'm not very good at this."

So, just to make his point as clear as he possibly can, he leans over and kisses Souji.

Souji, for his part, is just as inexperienced as Yosuke is in this field (contrary to what the majority of the female population of the school may think), so the whole affair is quite clumsy and there's far too much teeth than is comfortable, but he knows where to put his hands and Yosuke thinks they did okay for a first attempt.

"We're pretty lousy at this, aren't we?" Souji asks after, but he's still looking rather pleased with everything.

"Yeah, we kind of are," Yosuke agrees, and then kisses him again.


End file.
